


Conclave

by RedRoseWhite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Felching, Force Bond (Star Wars), No Pregnancy, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/pseuds/RedRoseWhite
Summary: Interrogation room. No talking. Just fucking.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 37
Kudos: 109
Collections: Reylo Hidden Gems





	Conclave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [villainous_child](https://archiveofourown.org/users/villainous_child/gifts).



> From a prompt from Twitter user @villainouschild: 
> 
> "I want bewildered fucking in the interrogation room. I want panting and confusion and zero talking. He has no idea whats going on but he just lets her feral little fingers rip apart is clothes afraid even his breath will ruin the spell."
> 
> Moodboard by @LindseyDiel.

Neither one of them is talking, but the air is filled with breath. There’s been a reversal; instead of panting breaking the quiet of the room, it’s as if it’s the silence that fills the space between gasps, and the gasping is all around, a tornado tightening around them. An unquiet eye. Tumult is swirling down his throat and the way her chest is heaving draws his eye to her breasts, his mind flashes with an image of what she might look like bare. Lithe and long, with berry-pink nipples. The breaths are coming more forcefully now, a purposeful rhythm instead of shallow effort, his nostrils flaring. Her eyes burn at him while she furrows her brow, not tearful anymore. The ferocity in them draws him near again, because that is something he has always wanted. The fire inside that burns through every obstacle, that consumes anything it cannot evade. He’s spent his life trying to get the upper hand in dodging legacy and ducking away from blows. The one before him will run and ram and swallow and melt everything she doesn’t want, until she has something that she does. He brings his face so close to hers that he can smell the faint sourness that gathered on her tongue while she was sleeping. Their eyes lock and perhaps because she thinks he is about to invade her mind again, she clumsily and offensively pushes against his. The contact is so pure, the way a droplet glances off water’s meniscus, rises in a perfect sphere, then finally falls into the pool. Their thoughts are exactly the same, not in words, but in a feeling. Recognition.  _ It’s you, it’s you, it’s you.  _

  
  


He remembers why he came close, but he can’t remember why he freed her from the cuffs. Her desire is like a briar that’s been silently wrapping around his skin and clenching him with thorns, when he thought he was leaning in to smell the rose. She is gripping his belt already and their lips have only just touched. He waits for her tongue before using his, but she is too quick and only dips it lightly. Grasping her by the nape of her neck he holds her where he wants her and possesses her mouth, pressing his tongue to hers. She shoves him backwards, pulls every corner of his clothing in every direction until his chest is bare and they’re sitting on the floor and she’s straddling his lap pinching one of his nipples, with his head wedged against her neck. Every scent of her is gathered here like a bouquet. He licks behind her ear, along her shoulder, near her collarbone, only interrupted for a moment when they both move his arms to peel away the cloak, the tunic. She smells like three different kinds of sweat and sugar and grass and he can’t stand to not be touching her, hands filled with warmth like he’s cupping a tiny sun. As she rips her own clothes off he tangles his fingers in her sweet-smelling hair, gently positions her head so he can taste the spots on her cheeks where her tears were when this all began. He’d said things to diminish her, and she’d cried with righteous fury. Strong enough to let her tears rise and accuse the world. He licks the tracks right up to her eyelashes, feels her panting against his nose, then lets her crook one whole hand around the base of his neck and grip him perfectly still while she uses the other to pull off her breastband. Both of his hands move to touch her nipples, and she arches forward on his lap and moans into their kiss. 

  
  


Both of their necks have bite marks, their clothes are a black and white swirl around the floor, and she is going to kill him. His cock is more stiff than it ever was in his hand, she’s rubbing her wet pussy on it, and he is going to die but not quite yet because he wants to enjoy this some more. Her clit is so hard, and the contrast of bumping it with the head of his prick after a long smooth slide on her yielding velvety labia makes his thighs shake. His fingers dig into her hips when she rocks them again, and his moan of frustrated longing loops through the air above them like a discarded ribbon, shot through with her own sharp cry. Her fingers on his dick are undeniable, she capably grasps and holds him and fits him inside her like a fuel rod in a reactor core, and suddenly he is completely enveloped. Their foreheads mash together and he can’t tell if the wetness on his face are his tears or hers or sweat or saliva, maybe he’s righteous and furious now, too. The way she rides him is perfect, just the right pace, and to reward her he sucks on her nipples, coats them with spit and blows to pop the bubbles. Then the angle changes, his foreskin feels tighter on the head of his cock, and with three or four more strokes like this his ass clenches and he comes so hard that his back arches and his head bangs on the floor and he doesn’t feel it or care. 

  
  


She doesn’t fully understand his strength yet and it’s satisfying to hear her surprised squeak when he sits up and easily puts her on her back on the pile of her clothes. He’s not going to let her take and keep his cum. She shifts her heels uselessly on his back while he scoops and reams it out of her pussy with his tongue, sucking her fucked-out hole until he can’t taste himself anymore in her nectar. The rhythm of her panting gets faster when he starts lapping her clit. She reaches down and holds herself open with two fingers from each hand on either side, pulling the sensitive nub taut. It’s so easy for him to just suck and suck and suck, feeling for the twitch and quake he knows is coming, his hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her onto his face. Once the tip of his tongue swipes and presses relentlessly in the middle of his sucking, she lets go of her pussy to slam her palms over her eyes, and when he flicks it as hard as he can, she shudders and twists and screams. 

  
  


It wasn’t much to be proud of, but order needed to be restored. Maintained. After her climax she’d been a pool of warm honey and putting her back to sleep was easy. For the best. He’d fumbled a little with her belt, put it on upside-down, but once all of her wrappings were back on, the full effect was close enough. As he left he told himself he’d see her again soon. She still had more to offer him. He would come back and take it all. 

  
  


Whatever he wanted. 


End file.
